Emuna: War and the Seventh Year Reminder

by Rav Yosef Veitzen, Rabbi of Psagot in the Binyamin Regional Council, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

Our daily Amidah (Shmoneh Esrei) prayer comprises 19 blessings, and the Talmud explains (Megillah 17b) that their order is quite precise: 

"… And why is Redemption the topic of the seventh blessing? Rav said: "Because Israel is destined to be redeemed in the seventh year [of the Shmittah cycle]." 

"But [we learn elsewhere that] the sixth year is one of [shofar] sounds, the seventh year – wars, and at the end of the seventh, the [Messiah] son of David arrives! [Answer:] War is the beginning of redemption."

We see from this Gemara that the Sages reveal an intrinsic connection between the Shmittah year and war. We are called upon during that year to go out to war against the savage Ishmaelites. What is the essence of this intrinsic connection between war and Shmittah?

The Holy Zohar cites a story involving R. Yosi and R. Chiya. They were walking along and saw two other men who then met a third man – who said that he had lost his way and had not had anything to eat for three days. One of the two men took out food from his pack and gave it all to the hungry man, leaving himself with nothing to eat. R. Chiya and R. Yosi discussed the matter: The former felt that the generous man was too generous, and did not do the right thing in leaving himself without anything. R. Yosi, however, said that it could be that a grave judgement had been decreed upon the giver, and that Divine providence had granted him the chance to do this good deed so that he could be saved from the decree. In the end, R. Yosi was proven correct, in that a miracle was wrought for the man who had given away all his food. 

R. Yosi cited this verse: "Trust in G-d and do good, [that you may] live in the land and be nourished with faithfulness" (Psalms 37,3): If you do good, with trust in G-d, He will save you from troubles and you will thus dwell in the land. 

The Message of Shmittah

R. Yosi's words seem to clash with the traditional teaching that we are not to rely on miracles. In truth, R. Yosi acknowledges that while this is true in general, there are exceptional cases, such as when a person faces a harsh judgment, when he must do a particular mitzvah with devotion and without calculations, and then G-d will protect him.

That is, there are times when a person must ignore regular considerations of money and the like, and simply trust that G-d will help him. The Zohar says that we can learn this from the idea of Shmittah, when we must let the land lay fallow and trust that our sustenance will come not from our work, but from Him. 

Our purpose in this world is simply to cling to Hashem – but He Himself placed us in a world that does not allow us to be engaged only in that. Rather, the rules of the world obligate us not only to keep our eyes on our physical and material goals, but also to plan out ways to achieve them. As such, we work our fields for six full years, just like all the other nations, and then in the seventh year we rest. 

However, there are risks that stem from our preoccupation with earning a living in the "natural" way. We might not only forget our real purpose, but we are liable also to assume that our material success comes exclusively thanks to our own efforts, our hishtadlut. That is, while hishtadlut is important, it might lead to forgetting G-d. And this is why we have the Shmittah year, a "Sabbath unto G-d." This is a full year in which we are exempt from worrying about our sustenance, but rather spend our time and efforts in doing goodness, engaging in matters of the spirit, and rest and cease from all other work. We thus throw our trust only in G-d. 

As the Torah states when it commands us regarding Shmittah: "And if you should ask, Whatever will we eat during the seventh year? … I will direct My [extra] blessing to you in the sixth year…" (Vayikra 25). 

Yes, the Shmittah year is a test: Even though we have little food for ourselves, we are told to trust in G-d and give of ourselves to others. That is, in accordance with the verse cited above, the test is to see if we set aside our personal calculations and seek only to come close to G-d. 

Similarly: During times of war, our individual lives are considered simply a means for the goal of the welfare of the entire country and for the Sanctification of G-d's Name.

While it is difficult to know when we must act like the generous man in the above story and put aside all personal considerations, it appears that during a war, the general rule is that we must set aside our personal issues and devote ourselves to the collective. The Rambam says that when one goes out to war, he must erase from his mind all thoughts of his wife and children, and concentrate exclusively on his war mission. The sacred goals of victory, neutralization of all national threats, and the prevention of a chilul Hashem (desecration of G-d's name) – all these override all personal calculations. 

This is why during the storms of war, we don't count the number of our dead; individual lives must give way to our collective life.

In War, the Ends Generally Justify the Means

When we are engaged in a war, the goal of "victory" is that which determines our strategy. We must wage war in an ethical and moral manner – but only when doing so will not lead to the most unethical and immoral result of all, that of losing the war! When our enemies seek to wipe us out with great cruelty, this is the ultimate immorality, both in terms of the murder and suffering, and also in the chilul Hashem that it entails. 

Yes, of course we fight our wars ethically – for our wars are, essentially, battles for justice and ethics; how can we fight unjustly for the sake of justice? This would be like cutting off the branch on which we sit. But this can never become a reason for us to lose the war, which would be more unjust and unethical that any individual unethical act we could do. 

Trust in G-d During War and in Shmittah

We have thus seen an important connection between the Shmittah year and waging war. Both of them require that we have total trust in Hashem that we will be able to attain our objectives. The attribute of trust in G-d produces within us new strengths; we no longer need to rely only on our own limited capabilities, but rather know that we have infinite Divine forces on our side, which no earthly force can withstand. 

"Give us aid against the adversary, but the salvation at the hand of man is futile. Through God we shall gather might, and He will trample our adversaries." (Psalms 60,13-14)

Re'eh: Entering the Land with Prophetic Guidance

by the late Chief Rabbi of Israel, Rav Avraham Shapira ZT"L, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion – Re'eh, Deut. 11,26-16,17 – tells us that we must "seek G-d's presence" (12,5) in Jerusalem, and specifically at the site of the Holy Temple, known today as the Temple Mount. 

The Medrash Sifri explains that this verse is telling us to "seek" via a prophet. We are obligated to consult with the prophet regarding the construction of the Temple and its precise location.

Concerning the King of Israel we have a similar obligation, about which we will read in next week's Torah portion: We are charged to install a king, in accordance with the prophet's directives. The laws of the king are to be connected with the prophet.

And there is also a third mitzvah in this little group, that of wiping out Amalek: "G-d is at war with Amalek for all generations" (Exodus 17,16). The laws regarding this commandment were given over to King Sha'ul by the Prophet Shmuel (as is also apparent from the words of Psikta Rabati 12). 

In our Kabbalat [Greeting] Shabbat prayer, we recite Psalms 95-99, including these verses: Moshe v'Aharon b'khohanav, "Moshe and Aharon were among His priests, and Shmuel among those who call in His name… In a pillar of cloud He spoke to them, they kept His testimonies and the statutes [that] He gave them." We know that G-d gave the Torah to Moshe, and some of the laws He gave to Moshe and Aharon together – but what laws were ever Divinely instructed to Shmuel?

The explanation is as above: The laws of kingship in Israel were given to the nation via the Prophet Shmuel. This is clearly stated in the Medrash Yalkut Tehillim (853) on the above verse: "We know that Moshe was taught the Torah, and we also know regarding Shmuel, that a Torah scroll was written for him, as is written after Shmuel chose Sha'ul to be king, "Shmuel told the people the rules of the kingdom, and wrote it in the Book and placed it before G-d" (Shmuel I 10, 25).  

We learn from here that these three commandments - to seek out and build the Temple, install a king, and destroy Amalek – are unique in that they must be performed at the directives of a prophet. And these are also the three mitzvot that must be performed when Israel enters the Holy Land, as the Talmud teaches (Sanhedrin 20b): "Israel was commanded to perform three mitzvot when they enter the Land: to install a king, to cut off the descendants of Amalek, and to build the Holy Temple."

At first blush this is strange. We were commanded many mitzvot upon entering the Land - especially those that are agricultural, but not only those! Why are these three specifically noted? 

Rashi explains that these three are inter-dependent, in that they must be performed in a certain order. But we can add another reason, based on what we said above: These three are to be executed in a particular manner, with the guidance of a prophet, and therefore they were listed on their own. 

The Exact Spot

We note that when the Torah speaks of the site where G-d's Divine Presence is to dwell, which is where the Holy Temple is to stand, it does not specify its exact location (as Maimonides notes in his Guide to the Perplexed). It rather refers to it as "the place that I will select." Similarly, when Avraham Avinu is told to offer up his son Isaac as a sacrifice on Mt. Moriah, where the Temple will later be built, the exact location is left vague: "on one of the mountains that I will tell you" (B'reshit 22,2). 

Bottom line: In order to build the Temple, it is incumbent upon us to awaken our desire for G-d's presence among us. This is precisely the Torah's words, l'shichno tidrishu. We must seek G-d, and this very pursuit and search will bring us closer to our inner Temple. As we read in Parashat Terumah: "They shall make for Me a sanctuary and I will dwell in their midst." This means that man himself constitutes a dwelling place for the Divine Presence, and he must seek to do so in accordance with prophetic guidance. 

Maimonides wrote (in his Epistle to Yemenite Jewry): "It is fitting for the public to rely on the Prophets, those with the true eyes... and after the [era of the] prophets, they must put their trust in the Sages, who study day and night the various explanations and opinions in order to ascertain which are true and which are false." And the Gaon of Vilna wrote similarly in his commentary to Seder Olam Rabba. 

May it be G-d's will that the Beit HaMikdash be rebuilt speedily in our days, and that we receive our share in His Torah.

Emuna: Removing Tradition (and Openness) from Traditional

by Rav Avraham Vasserman, Community Rabbi in Givatayim, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

What does it mean to be a traditional Jew, as opposed to an orthodox observant Jew? There are many answers, but most "traditionally," the way it developed in the Orient amongst Sephardic Jews was the following: Faith in the G-d of Israel, belief that He gave the Torah to Israel at Mt. Sinai, belief in the concept of Divine reward and punishment, and respect for Halakhah [Jewish Law]. In their world, rabbis are greatly respected and are invited to important occasions, while family connections are warm and important. At the same time, the Halakhah is not fully observed, and families might go for a Sabbath drive to the beach after the father and sons return from synagogue. There is a comfortable openness towards those who are not observant of Jewish Law barely at all, even if the parents might sigh in regret that their children are not as traditional as they would have liked them to be. Often, when something substantial happens in their lives, they might take upon themselves an additional mitzvah, such as lighting Sabbath candles or wearing tefillin. 

This way of life is not an ideology, but rather just the way they are. Sometimes people even express the wish to be more observant, but "my spouse doesn't agree," or, "it's too hard to commit." This is a style that appreciates Jewish religiosity while not feeling bound by it, and it has much beauty and positivity, especially in its openness to different degrees of observance – including even those who are very religious. 

Most unfortunately, in recent years there are those who have been trying to reframe this "traditional," practical way of life as a methodological ideology that declares openly that Halakhah "means nothing to us." Nothing could be further from the truth. 

In essence, the reframing is a type of Reform – not vis-à-vis Orthodoxy, but of traditional appreciation of Judaism. "Our way of life has nothing to do with religious life," these reformers paraphrase what was once said by certain Zionists about Zionism. This attempt to impose agendas on the large mesorati (traditional) public in Israel, on the large sector of grandparents and parents who recite Kiddush and Grace after Meals at their festive Sabbath meals – together with their children who do not normally do so – is nothing more than cynical advantage-taking of their good hearts. The vast majority of mesorati Jews in Israel want nothing to do with such a (non-)relationship to Jewish Law and to Jews who are more or less observant than they are.

Rav Kook (d. 1935) lived in a generation when many Jews abandoned their Torah beliefs and lives. In his profound analysis of this phenomenon, Rav Kook explains that one of its reasons is that it is hard for many people to find G-d in detailed laws, such as not cooking or making a phone call on the Sabbath. They still seek a connection with G-d, however – in the belief, sometimes, that this will be an even deeper connection. It is manifest partly in the "short cut" of being a good person, helping others, honoring parents, kissing the Torah scroll in the synagogue, and believing that G-d wants the best for all of us.

Rav Kook then goes a step further, and explains that this is basically the influence of Christianity. Though this sounds surprising, it is a fact that many Christians believe that what determines whether they are "saved" in the Next World is whether or not they believed in Jesus as their savior – and not necessarily their deeds in This World. 

That is, man wanted an escape from legalisms, and therefore created a different spiritual and religious ideology. But in his desire to remain connected to the original divine revelation and to eternal life, he came up with a twist in the plot: He turned the Torah into the "Old Covenant (Testament)," one which still exists but is no longer relevant. Instead, goes the claim, there is a "New Covenant" which no longer requires the laws of the Torah, but still believes in the Creator and His supervision, reward and punishment, and more. This new covenant emphasizes the ethics and morality of the Torah, in place of its laws and other teachings, even though the latter includes within them all of the former. This is precisely the problematic issue caused by stealing the lights of the Torah and detaching them from the practical mitzvot.

Some readers will yell out: "Are you calling these good Jews, Christians?! Have they instituted a new religion?!" Of course not. But it is important to know the common denominator between them, and that is the desire to throw off the yoke of the law. The Christians chose the idea of a new revelation, while some Jews went with a pick-and-choose attitude towards the mitzvot, keeping some and rejecting the others. 

Don't worry: Saba and Savta [your grandparents] will always be happy to welcome you, even if you come by car on the Sabbath. But don't dress them up with agendas that they never considered. 

Ekev: At a Loss for Words?

by Rav Netanel Yosifun, Rosh Yeshivat Orot Netanya, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

A congregational rabbi once told me of a tragedy that happened in his community: a young woman had suddenly died.

On a Sabbath very shortly after the death, the husband and father of the bereaved family asked the rabbi to come to his house. When he arrived, the father took him to the room of his teenaged son, who was lying "out of it" on his bed, totally apathetic. "He's barely woken up or done anything since my wife died," the husband lamented.

The rabbi understood that the father was hoping that he would find some way to reach the boy's soul, to comfort him, to encourage him. But the situation seemed so bleak that the rabbi said to himself, "What can I possibly do? Are there any words that I can use to reach his heart?"

Most unfortunately, this is a common phenomenon. Even under normal circumstances, it is not easy to find the right words for solace and comfort.

The Rabbis teach us that when Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai's son passed away, some of the holy Tannaim (Sages of the Mishna) sought to comfort him, but did not succeed. Only when R. Elazar ben Arakh arrived and found the right words did R. Yochanan find a measure of solace (see Avot D'Rabbe Natan, 14). 

This is why many times, people simply try to avoid making condolence calls, and when they do come, they talk about other things, or wait for other people to begin. [Jewish Law does require that the comforter wait for the mourner to begin speaking, or at least give a sign that he is ready to hear the comforter speak]. 

We have just commemorated the happy day of Tu B'Av, the 15th of Av. This day marks what happened to the generation that experienced the Exodus but was decreed to die out (other than those younger than 20 at the time of the Sin of the Spies) before they entered the Promised Land: Tu B'Av was the day on which they ceased dying. It thus represents the passage from the crisis of exile, to national solace and Redemption. 

We are currently in the throes of what we call the Seven Weeks of Consolation (following the Three Weeks of Mourning over the Holy Temples and the exile that concluded with Tisha B'Av). During these weeks, we read Hafarot after the weekly Torah reading that are connected not necessarily with the weekly portion, but with the concept of consolation. That is, we seek – and find – the right words with which to comfort Israel regarding its national calamities. 

It is fascinating to see that one of the famous Halakhists of the 15th century, known as the Maharil, noted an allusion to the fact that even G-d Himself sought, in His way, to pass the job of comforting Israel onto others. The Maharil writes regarding last week's Haftarah: "The Medrashim tell us that G-d told the Prophets to please comfort Israel: 'Nachamu, nachamu ami, Comfort, comfort My nation' (Yeshayahu 40,1) – that is, He asked them to console Israel in His stead."

But Zion could not be consoled. As we read in this past Shabbat's Haftarah: "Zion said, G-d has abandoned me" (Yeshayahu 49). The prophets reported back to G-d that Zion refused to accept consolation. 

G-d then said, as we read in next week's Haftarah, Aniyah so'arah, "O poor tempestuous one, who was not consoled." G-d tells the prophets that Israel was not consoled by them, but rather, as we read in the Haftarah after that, to Parashat Shoftim (Yeshayahu 51)"I, yea I am He Who consoles you." G-d Himself will comfort us.

We thus learn that when Hashem told the prophets to comfort Israel, it did not work – because Zion wanted G-d to speak to us and console us Himself. When Hashem speaks words of comfort, they will certainly find their mark.  

The message for us as individuals is that we, too, must not shy away from the mission. We must, as in warfare, "strive for contact," and try ourselves to find the right words, those which we as friends or even acquaintances sense will be of comfort and strength.

Of course, we may ask regarding the above: The approach of the Maharil appears to be problematic, since if the consolation ultimately comes from G-d Himself, why did He ask the prophets to do it for Him?

Perhaps the message is that Hashem wishes to teach us that though the source of comfort is from G-d, in practice, it is we – the people, the prophets – who must act in this world for our own consolation. We must do all we can to build ourselves up – Nachamu, nachamu ami! – and work for our solace and even Redemption. 

May it be that during these very weeks of consolation, we merit to be truly and finally comforted in the consolation of Zion and Jerusalem!

Emuna: The Tu B'Av Dancers' Song

by Rav David Dov Levanon, Jerusalem Rabbinical Court, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

Just six days after the saddest day of the year, Tisha B'Av (the 9th of Av), comes one of its happiest days, Tu B'Av (the 15th of Av). The Mishna at the end of Tractate Taanit Teaches:

Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel said: There were no days as joyous for the Jewish people as the 15th of Av and Yom Kippur, for on these days the daughters of Jerusalem would go out in borrowed white clothes - so as not to embarrass those who did not have [their own white garments]… And they would go out and dance in the vineyards. And what would they say? "Young man, please lift up your eyes and choose for yourself [a wife]. Do not set your eyes toward beauty, but rather toward [a good] family, as the verse states (Proverbs 31:30): 'Grace is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears G-d shall be praised' …"  (Taanit 26b)

The Mishna notes here a unique phenomenon in the world of shidduchim (matchmaking). Generally, as the Gemara teaches (Kiddushin 2b), it is the way of a man to pursue a woman for matrimony, and not the other way around, just as one searches for his own lost item [in this case, the rib from which the woman was created]. But here, we see the women chasing after the men. It appears that the dance in the vineyards, and the entire special virtue of shidduchim on these two days, stems from the fact that these are holidays in Israel – days of forgiveness and renewed connection between us and G-d, as in the verse, "on the day of his wedding and the day of his heart's joy" (Song of Songs 3,11). Israel, G-d's bride, sinned, and then - on their own initiative - returned to G-d, the "bridegroom." This then became the model for these special days when the bride pursues the groom. 

Several questions arise, among them: Why does the Mishna cite a verse that emphasizes the importance of fearing G-d as support for the importance of family? In addition, later on in the Gemara we learn that aside from the girls who told their potential husbands to seek good family, other girls had a different message: The pretty ones said the men should look at "beauty," while the less attractive of them said, "Choose for the sake of Heaven, as long as you adorn us with gold." How are we to understand this?

Let us explain this based on the words of the 18th-century Maggid of Kuzhnitz. The "pretty" girls refer to those who are full of Torah, mitzvot, and good deeds; the ones of distinguished lineage [who promoted good family] may not have as much Torah, but they have z'chut avot, the "merit of their forefathers;" and the "homely" ones are those who see mainly their own faults, as King David said, "My sin is before me always" (Psalms 51,5). That is, they are on the level of baalei teshuvah, penitents. And this then explains their words, "as long as you adorn us with gold" – i.e., they seek Divine help and guidance in fulfilling the Torah and its mitzvot so that they can become righteous. 

The general message is that the more one believes himself to be an empty vessel that needs to be filled, the more he will be able to fill himself with spiritual abundance and feel closeness to G-d. In this context, there appear to be three levels, one atop the other: 

The "pretty ones" with good deeds, would certainly be a good choice for those looking for a worthy wife. 

Above them are those who do not count on their own good deeds but rather always ask themselves, "When will my deeds reach the level of my forefathers?" and rely on the merit of their ancestors and families. They seek Divine aid and say (Psalms 121,1), "I lift my eyes to the mountains" – harim, in Hebrew, which can allude to horim, parents. 

And finally we have the top level, that of the homely who fear that they don't even have the merit of their forefathers and therefore rely solely and totally on Hashem in heaven; as the above verse continues, "My aid comes from G-d, the Maker of heaven and earth." This is why they tell their prospective matches, "Choose for the sake of Heaven, as long as you adorn us with gold" – referring to the gold of good deeds. And because this is what they strive for, they will ultimately be beautified. Of all three types, these are the ones who can draw closest to G-d – and this is precisely why the Mishna concludes with a verse praising the "woman who fears G-d," for she is the culmination of all of them. And all the more so will this be true if those who are "beautiful in deeds" or take merit in the "deeds of their forefathers" are excited and moved by this awareness of the importance of the third level, to constantly increase their pure fear of God; if they do so, their good virtues will enable them to reach this level, and even higher! 

The Mishna also notes that the dancing maidens would wear borrowed clothing, so that those who cannot afford their own beautiful dresses would not be embarrassed. This atmosphere of "equality" wherein they do not show off their clothing – that is, their good deeds or special lineage – is the result of the special virtue that the Mishna attributes to the "homely" girls, who are so modest that they do not recognize their own virtues. This is the secret of their machol, circular dance, which has no beginning and no end; rather, everyone is equal.  

In sum: When we have nothing to show off, we can fill ourselves with fear of G-d – which will then raise up all of our other virtues to their highest level.